


Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me

by coloursflyaway



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Prompts [13]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is pining, just like Eggsy is, and in the end, it takes a bullet that almost hits its mark for them to get together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt was as follows:
> 
> So I was thinking, how about a harry poverty where he's been hopelessly pining over eggs, and eggs one day confesses his own love to harry. And Harry is disbelieving but so happy, and he takes eggs to bed and he proceeds to lay eggs out and worship him with eyes, mouth and hands before they even get round to the sexing

Eggsy looks up at him, his green eyes bright and a small smile on his lips, and Harry is lost once more.

 

There is something about the young man which always draws him in, wherever they are, and although Harry feels like he knows as many words as he has spent days on this Earth, there are none he could use to describe Eggsy entirely.  
He’s radiant in a way Harry has never experienced before, seems to fill up the room with his presence and leave a bit of himself whenever he leaves, a hint of his glow, his spirit. And Harry, although he never considered himself sentimental, feels blessed to have gotten to know Eggsy, honoured to have the boy consider him a mentor, maybe even a friend, despite of all the pain he has inflicted on Eggsy’s young life.

Eggsy is so much more to him, but the other never has to, should never know.

 

“Harry, do Kingsmen ever retire?”, Eggsy asks across the rim of his tea cup. It’s not quite a tradition yet, but a common occurrence for them to have tea together in Harry’s office whenever they are both in London.  
“Why? Wondering when you’re going to get rid of me?”, Harry answers with a small, teasing smile, a raised eyebrow; afternoons like this are his favourites, the ones he gets to at least partly spend with this beautiful boy, Eggsy’s attention focussed on him for at least a few hours. Not having to fear that Eggsy could die in some far away country because of a detail they all missed. “Or are you already counting days until you can retire?”

“As if I ever wanted to get rid of ya.  Or this job”, Eggsy responds, a grin on his lips and his words just enough to make Harry’s old, stupid heart skip a beat. “I would like to get rid o’ Tristan though, so in case ya can retire as an agent, maybe ya could gently remind him of that possibility.”  
Harry doesn’t tell Eggsy that for him, he’d do almost anything.

 

Eggsy goes to Kenya and comes back beaten up and injured, two cute on his side that are anything but lethal, but require that the boy spends a night or two in the medical wing anyway. And although Harry tries, although Merlin gives him a long, exasperated look when he catches him sneaking downstairs, he cannot stay away.    
He finds Eggsy asleep, his skin looking painfully pale against the white sheets, and Harry’s foolish heart aches in a way he never thought possible before meeting Eggsy.

“My darling boy”, he mutters, because Eggsy cannot hear him, and his treacherous fingers reach out and trail over Eggsy’s swollen cheek, down his neck; when he pulls them away, he can still feel the boy’s warmth lingering on his skin.

 

Eggsy gets well again, proudly shows off his scars once they are fully healed, completely oblivious to the way Harry’s mouth goes dry at the sight.

 

“This is amazing”, Eggsy mumbles around a mouthful of roast and mashed potatoes, his eyes bright as always, a smudge of sauce on his chin which Harry wishes he could lick, wipe away. “Best thing ever. Ya the guv’nor.”  
“I assume that is something good”, Harry replies although he knows the answer already, still he likes playing oblivious sometimes, just because of the reaction it always gets from Eggsy. It works now too; the boy rolls his eyes, a fond smile on his lips.  
“’Course it is.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like it couldn’t mean anything else, and Harry feels his heart swell, crack open to let the warmth spill out.

 

Two hours later, they have moved to the living room, the third bottle of beer in Eggsy’s hand and the second glass of whiskey in Harry’s. He can hardly feel the alcohol, but Eggsy obviously does, at least judging by the way he is spread out across Harry’s sofa, his expression relaxed and his smiles lazy.  
He’s beautiful, just like he always is, and Harry feels his finger itch with the need to touch him.  
“Y’know”, Eggsy starts, reminding Harry just how much time has passed since either of them has said anything. “Well, no. _Do_ ya know that feeling when ya just… there’s something ya need to say, but ya don’t know how? ‘Cause there are words, yeah, but not the right ones, and the person is the right one, but ya don’t know if they want to hear it. What ya want to say, I mean.”

Harry has not even the slightest clue what Eggsy could be talking about, who he might be referring to, but he nods anyway, because while he doesn’t know what Eggsy is thinking, he knows that there is something he would like to say too, very much so.  
“Yes”, he adds when he realises that Eggsy isn’t looking at him, but instead at his own hand wrapped around the bottle of beer. “Yes, I do.”

 

Eggsy doesn’t stay in the guest room, although Harry offers it; Harry tries not to feel anything when he watches the boy leave.

 

“Brought ya somethin’”, Eggsy quips and puts whatever he brought down on Harry’s desk. It speaks highly of his talent as an agent that Harry didn’t hear him coming, speaks just as much of Harry’s age.  
He looks up now, though, straight at Eggsy and the thing in front of him – a snow globe with a brightly coloured miniature version of the Hollywood hills inside, glitter still floating around them.  
The sight does two things to Harry at the very same time, it makes him feel a little warmer, just because Eggsy thought of him, cares enough to bring a souvenir back for him, and reminds him of that horrible evening, of Michelle Unwin’s tears, Eggsy’s precious little face.

“What did I do to deserve such a gift?”, he asks, half in jest, half really wondering, and Eggsy scoffs, plops down on the chair in front of Harry’s desk.  
“Can’t I just bring my favourite boss somethin’ from one of my missions?”, he asks back, slouches a bit in his seat, a teasing smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes.  
“I’m your only boss.”  
“Doesn’t mean ya not my favourite.”  
And God, how much Harry wishes that it was true.

 

He sends Eggsy away on another mission to Japan, although he wishes he could keep him by his side.

 

“Harry, I don’t want to call you an idiot, but you’re a fucking idiot”, Merlin tells him over a glass of Riesling and a stew that’s so good it practically melts in his mouth. “Either you tell the boy what you feel, or you get over him. It’s getting embarrassing for everyone who’s watching.”

 

It’s early morning and Harry brings Eggsy a cup of tea, sets it down carefully so he won’t spill a drop.    
“Oh! Thanks, Harry, ya really didn’t have to”, Eggsy tells him, but takes the cup anyway, bringing it to his lips and taking the most ungentlemanly of gulps; Harry would never scold him for it, not when his eyes slide close like they do now, a soft, pleased groan escaping him.  
He commits the sound, the sight to memory and for a moment, if even that long, Merlin’s words echo in his head.

That night, they had made at least some sense, but now, when he is watching Eggsy doing something so mundane as sip a cup of tea, they don’t – he couldn’t stand to watch the fondness in Eggsy’s eyes change to disgust, and he can’t think of a way how he could ever get over someone as radiant as the boy is.

 

As if he was trying to repay Harry, Eggsy brings him lunch that day, greasy Chinese take-out that tastes amazing although it’s already cold, prawn crackers, which are one of the few foods Harry really cannot stand and yet eats anyway.

 

There’s nothing in the wold that could make Harry admit it, but he comes more often with Eggsy’s name on his lips than not.

 

Eggsy goes on a mission in Brussels, something small and seemingly unimportant, but he comes back to London looking wrecked, although there’s no scratch on him, although there were no casualties.

 

“Hey.” Eggsy stands on his doorstep, looking a little bit shaken still, eyes darting between Harry’s face and some spot just behind him, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Harry for too long; it’s very odd indeed.  
“Hello”, he answers, tilting his head to take Eggsy in, trying to figure out just what is making him so fidgety, why he’d be nervous. “Do you want to come in?”  
“No offence, but no, thanks”, Eggsy answers with a wry smile, some self-depreciation mixed into it that hurts Harry on some deeper level. “I might have to leave pretty quickly, and I’d hate to leave half a glass o’ whiskey on ya table when I do.”

Why leave, Harry wants to ask, why ever leave, but he doesn’t get to it, because Eggsy seems like he’ll explode if Harry keeps him from speaking for a second longer, like he’ll never get another word out.  
“Back in Brussels”, he says and sounds breathless, sounds helpless and hopeful and scared and resigned, “A bullet almost hit me. A hundred bullets almost hit me before, I know, but this one, it went right past me, hit the wall and I thought, well. That could’ve been it, y’know?”  
He laughs, but his voice is hollow, the sound doesn’t last long before Eggsy continues, “And I thought about all the things I wouldn’t have been able to do if that bullet had gone into my head and not the wall. Celebrate Daisy’s fifth birthday. Watch the next James Bond movie. Finally convince Jamal to watch _Lord of the Rings_ with me. And I’d never get to tell ya how I feel.”

He’s not looking at Harry anymore, not even for a second, the most hopeless smile Harry has ever seen on his lips, like he recognised some fundamental truth just a second before and didn’t find it to his liking; Harry can hardly hear what he continues to say because his heart is beating so loudly.  
“’Cause I know there’s like, no chance in hell that you’ll ever feel the same, but I won’t ever know until I try, yeah? So this is it. Me telling ya.”

It can’t be and yet it must, so Harry asks, “Tell me what?”  
“That I love ya, of course.”

 

It must be the twelfth kiss, maybe the thirteenth, which Harry presses to Eggsy’s lips when he lowers him onto the mattress. He’s always been beautiful, but now he’s more than that, he’s beyond words, angelic, and Harry has never allowed himself to think of himself _loving_ , but he does love Eggsy now, might love him forever.  
Eggsy’s arms come up to wrap around his neck to pull him down further, giggling against Harry’s lips when their limbs tangle, Harry loses balance and falls down on the boy.  
“Thought ya’d be all suave and cool”, Eggsy comments lightly, pressing a kiss to the corner of Harry’s lips. “Not as much of a clumsy mess as I am.”

“Disappointed?”, Harry asks, slides his hands up Eggsy’s sides, feeling warm skin. He kisses Eggsy again and decides to stop counting, because if this is going to go according to his plan, he’ll kiss Eggsy at least a thousand more times.  
“Nah.” Eggsy pulls back just a little, just enough to beam up at Harry, his eyes half-lidded, but star-bright. “Not at all. Like it better that way, really, it feels more real like that.”  
“Why’s that?”  
“Dunno.” Eggsy pushes himself up on his elbows, stealing another little kiss, which Harry gives willingly. “Ya always seemed a bit too perfect, so it’s nice to see ya affected by this. By me.”

“I’ll have you know that I am, and always have been, affected by you”, Harry tells him and watches the faintest of blushes spread on Eggsy’s cheeks, hardly there and yet impossibly endearing.  
“Oh shush.”  
It’s the only answer he gets, but that’s absolutely alright, because instead of talking, Harry gets to kiss the other. And he does, kisses Eggsy’s lips and then down to the jawline he has been thinking about for such a long time, nibbling and licking until Eggsy is squirming underneath him.

His cock is half hard, digging into Harry’s hip, and the feeling is making Harry feel light-headed, like he is sixteen again and just got his hands on the boy he had his first crush on. His fingers feel just the same when he unbuttons Eggsy’s shirt, like they are about to start shaking any second.  
It’s impossibly hard, but he breaks away from Eggsy for a little while, just enough so he can look at Eggsy properly, not just feel.  
There are two new scars on Eggsy’s abdomen, thin and still pink, a few more scattered across his chest, but it doesn’t diminish the boy’s beauty the slightest bit; if anything, it makes him even more stunning, because he has lived through all these wounds and always has come back.

He’s staring, Harry realises, because Eggsy is squirming slightly, his cheeks pink and his expression just a little bit embarrassed; he looks beyond endearing, and although Harry knows he could just look at Eggsy for an eternity without getting sick of it, touching seems more important now.  
So he does, bends down to trail kisses from Eggsy’s collarbone down to his belly button, nipping at the boy’s hipbones. The hint of teeth draws a hiss from Eggsy’s lips, his back arching off the mattress, and Harry feels his own cock harden in his pants, his own lust not yet insistent, but impossible to ignore.

“God, Harry”, the other breathes out, and Harry responds with another nip to his hip, fingers working on getting Eggsy’s trousers open, because now that he has started, he cannot get enough of Eggsy’s skin underneath his lips.  
It’s harder than it ought to be, but even Harry’s newly-clumsy fingers manage to get the boy’s trousers off, Eggsy helping with lifting his hips so Harry can drag them down, lips staying where they are for a second, just above the hem of Eggsy’s boxers. He lets his tongue dart out, tasting sweat, and Eggsy whines pitifully, hips rolling upwards again in a plea he doesn’t have to voice, because Harry understands it anyway.

He lets his lips ghost down over soft cotton, stretched across Eggsy’s hard cock, and the boy moans, spurring Harry on. He could continue to tease, is tempted to do so, but decides against it, instead he seals his lips around the head of Eggsy’s cock, sucks on it through the fabric until he can taste precome.  
Eggsy moans again, and it’s something he never allowed himself to think about unless he was alone and in the dark; the sounds the boy would make, if he’d be vocal or not, if his voice would sound breathless, if he’d beg or demand.  
Now, though, he can find out for himself.

So Harry gives the head of Eggsy’s cock another suck, then lets his lips slide down the length of Eggsy’s shaft, so slowly that his saliva soaks into the fabric, only stopping when he has reached the base of it. He reaches up to cup Eggsy’s balls, rolling them in his hands, and it seems like it’s that which breaks the boy down, makes him cry out softly, hips snapping upwards.  
“ _Godfuckingdamnit_ ”, he growls, putting a hand in Harry’s hair and pulling him up into a kiss that is as fierce as it is loving, Eggsy’s breath hitching whenever Harry squeezes his balls, no matter how lightly.

“Can we please fucking get on with it?”, he asks against Harry’s lips and Harry presses his thumb just behind Eggsy’s balls, rubbing the sensitive skin there through the boy’s boxers, and Eggsy melts against him, hips rolling into Harry’s touch. “Can we please really get on with it, fuck, Harry, I’m gonna come like a fucking teenager in my boxers if ya don’t hurry up.”  
“And would that be a problem?”, Harry asks, presses a little harder, feeling Eggsy’s cock twitch.  
“Yes!” The word leaves Eggsy in a rush, almost a gasp, even while he tries to rub his cock against Harry’s palm. “Wanna come with ya.”

The words set something inside of Harry aflame, make him groan without wanting to, “God, Eggsy.”  
It hurts a little bit to leave Eggsy’s warmth, but Harry pulls away anyway, ignoring Eggsy’s little whine so he can strip out of his jacket, his shirt, only realising he is being watched when he is undoing the button of his trousers.  
For a moment, he feels uncommonly self-conscious, reminded of the scars he has acquired over the three decades he has been an agent, of the fact that his body is betraying the fifty-five years he has lived, but then his eyes meet Eggsy’s. Although the boy is so young, so gorgeous, he looks at Harry like he is ready to eat him, eyes dark with lust and desire; suddenly Harry feels twenty years younger at least.

He drops his trousers along with his boxer briefs, ignoring that they’ll be wrinkled the next morning, because every second he spends away from Eggsy is one too much. Instead, he joins the boy on the mattress, captures Eggsy’s lips in another kiss while he drags him closer, rearranging both their limbs until they fit together and Harry can lick his palm, sneak a hand between them.  
It’s not easy to wrap his fingers around both their shafts at the same time, but he manages, drawing a groan from both their lips when he feels the slide of Eggsy’s cock, against his own.

His lips find Eggsy’s, kissing him, and the boy moans, rolls his hips into Harry’s grasp. And suddenly it’s so easy to find a rhythm that suits them both, Harry stroking them, spreading precome across their skin, while Eggsy fucks up into his fist, adding a bit of friction, a hint of heat.  
It makes pleasure spread through Harry’s body, from the tips of his fingers down to his toes, tingling across his skin and turning every breath into half a gasp, every heartbeat into another wave of pleasure coursing through him.

Their lips are still sliding together in an endless series of kisses and maybe it’s that, that he is swallowing every sound Eggsy is making so easily, which makes him miss any warning that the boy is about to come. But he does, with a choked moan, snapping his hips and coating Harry’s palm with his come, making the slide slippery and even better.  
Eggsy is gripping his upper arm, trying to press closer, hips still jerking with the aftershocks, and something in between pushes Harry over the edge too; maybe it’s just the knowledge that it was him who brought this radiant boy in his arms to orgasm.

 

They have cleaned up, Harry has changed the sheets, and Eggsy is still there, which is a pleasant surprise in itself. His hair is still damp from the shower they took, his eyes half-lidded and bright, although he’s obviously tired; when Harry lays down next to him on the mattress, Eggsy slides closer until they are cuddled together, their legs tangled.  
“Hi”, Eggsy mutters, reaches up and traces Harry’s lips, smiling when Harry takes the chance to press a kiss to his fingertip. “Wish I had known it’d be like that, I’d have told ya far earlier. Like the moment we met.”  
“That soon?”, Harry asks, both amused and touched, pulls Eggsy even closer, presses a kiss to the boy’s forehead.  
“Absolutely”, Eggsy mutters, eyes fluttering shut, but the smile staying on his lips. “The longer we could’ve had, the better.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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